


Atlas

by Louis_the_Snake



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bottom James T. Kirk, Day At The Beach, Drunk Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk is a Mess, James T. Kirk/Spock Fluff, Klingon, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, POV James T. Kirk, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Sunsets, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louis_the_Snake/pseuds/Louis_the_Snake
Summary: Short series baed on various prompts, Spirk-centric, couple original planets and races and minor characters just to keep the plot moving and such. Tags will be updated each chapter. Kirk's a lovestruck fool and Spock is barely any better about his feelings. Bones is long-suffering.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	1. To Walk On

Even the crew of the Enterprise got time off. A beautiful golden planet, class M, no signs of higher life. In fact, no signs of any animal larger than a housecat. After it was logged and given a numerical designation, Kirk made the executive decision to grant the crew some vacation time. It would be like camping! They wouldn’t get any luxurious food or anything, but a day on the beach and a night sleeping on a planet, any planet, sounded incredibly pleasant.  
It was decided they would stay a total of five days, in order to allow for shift rotation aboard and planetside. This way, everyone would have at least one day they woke up and went to sleep on the planet. That seemed sufficient, since they had no pressing tasks but did want to press on.  
Kirk arranged for himself to have the last shift planetside. He was captain, after all, he felt obligated to remain with his ship as much as possible and to only reap benefits once most of his crew had enjoyed them first. Spock, incidentally, had the same inclination. The days ticked by in orbit peacefully, with nothing but glowing reviews of the beaches and the milky white oceans. The sky on this planet was closer to purple in hue than most, but the sunsets were nearly green. The plant life was bright red, which Kirk overheard Sulu mention made sense given the star they were nearest to.  
When Kirk finally got to take his shoes off on the beach, he was ready for the relaxation he might get out of such a place. He set up his hammock near the others, but far enough away he could listen to the wildlife over talking. He had heard enough talking over the last month they’d been shiplocked.  
The sand was the color of butterscotch candy. The whole planet seemed to be made of candy, in little ways. Milk and Honey, Strawberry and pale lilac, as though lavender flowers coated the sky itself. Kirk sat with his toes in the sand, just where the waves reached him. Somewhere, he heard singing. It wasn’t Uhura, she was back on duty, but it was beautiful nonetheless.  
“Captain, may I join you?”  
Kirk hadn’t even heard Spock’s approach.  
“I’ve told you, call me Jim when we’re off duty, I’m a little Captain-ed out.”  
“Jim.” Spock sat in the sand beside him. He still had his shoes on.  
“Of course, Spock. Do you want to wait for the sunset with me?”  
“That can certainly be a secondary goal.”  
“Which means you have a primary goal, right? What’s up?”  
“Captain-”  
“-Jim-”  
“-Jim, I find myself at a bit of a puzzle. It is not something I’ve encountered before, sir, and I wanted to seek your advice on it.”  
“Of course, How can I help?”  
“The intricacies of human emotional perceptions are far more complex than I gave them credit. Are humans often afraid of love?”  
“Hm. Afraid might not be- Why do you ask?”  
“I overheard a conversation and I wanted to write down the observation for my notes on human behavior, but I need to understand it fully before I write a report on it.”  
Spock set a bottle of some sugary soda between them, and Kirk saw Spock had his own, so he took it and popped it open.  
“Ah, yes. Your human research notes. Well, afraid might not be the most accurate word, I think. Just like Vulcans, human romantic relationships represent a major part of our lives and a large emotional investment in someone. Unlike Vulcans, though, we don’t usually have partners picked out for us and decades to get to know them. Usually, we have to place a lot of trust in someone. It’s kind of like… If you had a very fragile, very important artifact, but it could only be carried by two people. Maybe you could carry it alone for a little while, but it would be very difficult and tense and you’d want to have assurance that the other is going to come back.”  
Waves lapped at Kirk’s toes, and the sky was slowly shifting tone. The soda was probably human in origin, but Kirk couldn’t place it, or identify the flavor.  
“And the love is asking another to carry it with you?”  
“Yeah, and you have to trust that they won’t drop their side suddenly or abandon you when they need you to carry it alone for a while.”  
“A very concise analogy, Captain.”  
“Jim, and yeah, I’ve had a lot of relationships. Eventually, you get tired of dropping the dang thing and you just hang onto it yourself even if you want to love someone.”  
Little flying mammals made soft calls while the sun turned a strange shade of pale green.  
“That seems illogical, if it really is so heavy it requires two people to carry.”  
“Ah, you know how we humans are. Not always do we choose the most logical option.”  
Kirk leaned his head back to look up and out, to see if any stars were coming into view.  
“Are they more afraid of being abandoned or of actually being loved?”  
“Depends on the person.”  
“Fascinating.”  
Stars faded into view gently, barely lighter than the darkening lilac sky. Kirk looked back to Spock, who shone in the sunset brilliantly. Green light bounced through Vulcan skin the way orange bounced through human, making him seem right, beautiful, at home. Kirk stretched his back out and sipped his drink.  
“Some ancient poets compared love to dying, or dissolving. To war and to loss. I don’t know if Vulcans feel love the same way humans do, but it is something very frightening to us for its power.”  
“Vulcans have been logical for eons now. Fear is rarely logical.”  
“Love sure isn’t logical.”  
“Then maybe we don’t experience love the same way as humans.”  
“Maybe.”  
Kirk knew that was not the conclusion Spock wanted out of him, but there didn’t seem a good way to work his way out of it, so Kirk let it hang. The sun had lit the eastern sky in a shade not unlike cabbage leaves, which faded up to near white and then out into the blue violet the lilac had become.  
“Maybe that’s why our races remain at such a distance.”  
“I always just thought the Vulcans found us unpleasant because we violated logical rules so often.”  
“I was taught that humans wouldn’t enjoy the stoicism Vulcans must maintain.”  
“Maybe the distance has nothing to do with the physiological and cultural differences, then, just a big miscommunication.”  
“I doubt that to be the case.”  
Kirk felt himself laugh before he realized that he found that amusing. Spock could be so stubborn about the strangest things. The light slowly sank beyond the horizon, leaving the two men in the near blackness of the night. No moon on this planet, the night was much darker than it ever got on earth or inside the Enterprise. Spock stood first and helped Kirk to his hammock, then, with a soft goodnight, he disappeared into the shadows.  
“Goodnight, Mr.Spock.” Kirk knew he would be heard, so he didn’t raise his voice.  
When Kirk woke, the sun was low in the western sky, and the flying ratlike beasts were singing. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then smiled at the early risen crewmates who had set up a replicator for breakfast. He got a hearty egg and bread meal, then changed into his bathing suit. What was the point of spending a day on a beach planet if you didn’t even swim?  
Kirk ended up playing some ridiculous chicken-fight game with some security officers and ensign Carpenter, and felt oddly refreshed by the water, which had read as non-toxic, but was high in minerals and surprisingly warm to the touch. He peeled himself out of the water near midday, and sat beside Spock, who remained fully clothed in his perfect uniform, taking recordings with his tricorder and logging data on his PADD.  
“Having fun, Mr.Spock?”  
“Yes, Captain. I am enjoying myself immensely. This planet is rife with small mysteries to unwind.”  
Kirk let that use of ‘Captain’ slide and grabbed a bottle of UV-protective lotion ensign Carter had been nice enough to ensure made it planetside for this shift.  
“Can I ask you to take a short break from that and help me coat my back in this? I don’t want to get burned.”  
Spock assessed him.  
“Captain.” He took the bottle and dabbed a little lotion onto his hands. Kirk took the bottle back and started focusing his efforts on coating his chest and face and arms, pretending not to care what Spock did next.  
He almost didn’t care until Spock’s hands hit his back. Those hands of his were always something that caught Jim’s attention. They were broad and soft and warm as anything, the hands of a scientist and a musician, but a strong one, who had a normal body temperature higher than his.  
It was very pleasant to feel the lotion massaged into his skin by those hands. He didn’t say anything when Spock rubbed up his neck and over his shoulders, where Kirk had already applied the lotion, and he didn’t say anything when Spock’s hands brushed along the hem of his shorts. Spock was, as always, perfectly thorough and methodical.  
By the time Spock was finished, Kirk realized he was half-asleep. He shook his head a little to wake himself up.  
“I believe that should be sufficient, Captain.”  
“Yes, thank you Mr.Spock.”  
Spock inclined his head gracefully in acknowledgement, then went back to working on his PADD. Jim watched his hands for only a moment before he turned and walked away to his hammock.  
He did not need to think so hard about Spock’s hands. Whatever kind of Vulcan knowledge Spock had about human backs was none of his concern, and he definitely didn’t need to think about his subordinate’s hands as much as he currently felt he was.  
He just knows Spock got a kick out of that- out of how loudly he’d probably been thinking or however the touch-telepathy worked. All Kirk could really hope was that he hadn’t thought out an invitation for Spock’s hands to wander further in a way Spock could read it.


	2. To Cling To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place only a few days later.

After the time off on what Kirk had come to affectionately call ‘Candy Beach’, the Enterprise was sent on a mission near the neutral zone. They were to gain the trust of a planet before the Klingons could, and ensure that this planet remained out of the fight. If at all possible, they were to take notes on the Klingon forces currently orbiting the planet.  
Since this mission was diplomatic in nature, Kirk chose his landing team carefully. The people of this planet, which they called Gourt’ka, were focused on artistic expression above all else, and their planet would not survive a Klingon takeover. The Gourt were pink-skinned and thin, dressed in layers upon layers of thick embroidered clothing. Kirk chose Uhura, of course, for her knowledge of Klingon, knowledge of the standard form of the Gourt’kan tongue, and skill with finding Klingon’s hidden frequencies. He chose Spock because he knew Spock would be able to keep up with the complex system of propriety and etiquette. He also picked out a small team of sociologists and anthropologists, not because they needed to research the planet’s culture and history, but because they would have more to talk about with the curious Gourt.   
When they beamed down in their dress uniforms, the Gourt ‘pretty ones’ ran up and draped these huge coats and blankets around them, chittering in their cold-blooded throats their concerns. Uhura quickly thanked the parade of decorated Gourt for everyone. The ‘pretty ones’ then decided who would escort each Starfleet officer, with the one they treated as a leader taking Uhura’s arm gently in their spindly digits.   
“You must be the lovely linguistic master! I am Hjoktguhtik, I am a bit of a linguist myself. I speak Standard, and Klingon, and many languages. Would you mind terribly if I make myself your companion for the evening?”   
“Of course not, Hjoktguhtik, it is a pleasure to meet you and I am sure our time will be lovely. What activities do we have planned for this evening, if you don’t mind me asking?” Uhura’s voice was as soothing as ever, and she didn’t stumble a moment to repeat the name.   
Hjoktguhtik whispered to a smaller Gourt who held a primitive sort of PADD device, and then turned and smiled to Uhura and the others.   
“Tonight, before the sun sets, we have a meal prepared for you all and our other guests. We hope that their presence at a pleasant dining event will help soothe both sides of any tension. Here on Gourt’ka, all are welcome, none are fighting.”  
“We will be without fight, and we will not incise the Klingons.” Kirk spoke up, “We are here on a diplomatic mission, not a military one.”   
“Pleasant to hear, you are the Captain?” Hjoktguhtik smiled widely, their ‘teeth’ wiggling.   
“Yes, I am, Captain Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”   
“Jitoukik, would you mind escorting the Captain?” Hjoktguhtik waved a limb.   
The largest of the ‘pretty ones’ stepped up to take Kirk’s arm, their outfit slightly different from the others, with the layers tied up into some sort of pants rather than dragging on the floor.  
“Jitoukik is a blade dancer, they will suit an honorable one such as you. They don’t speak any standard, but they do make good company in silence as well as speech.”   
“Thank you Jock-tuh-tick, I am honored to meet Jut-ow-kick.” Kirk could not for the life of him make his mouth make the right noises but he did his very best not to disrespect them. He smiled at Jitoukik and placed his hand atop theirs.   
Spock and the various officers were each paired with a ‘pretty one’ and they were escorted into the vast dining hall. The room was like a huge cross, with the center being clear for dancers and all four directions open dining areas with seating all along the wall. Their escorts sat them sporadically throughout the room, sitting Kirk opposite from a Klingon man, who stopped his jovial conversation with his own escort to lock eyes.   
“Captain!” He hollered.   
“Sir.” Kirk smiled and nodded just slightly, though he kept his eyes out of his smile.   
“I have heard of your exploits, Kirk.”   
“I have not had the pleasure of hearing yours, captain…?”  
“Commander Kiltarc.”  
The feast went swimmingly. Tension between the crew and the klingons never rose above a short apology for bumping into a crewman. Spock performed admirably, with memorized manners and an even voice. Uhura was understandably adored by the Gourt. Jitoukik was a courteous host despite the language barriers.   
When they were finally allowed to rest, they got directly to work monitoring the Klingon presence.   
Kirk was restless, so he left the room to investigate the cargo vessel the Klingon had landed inside the palace grounds. Spock refused to let him go alone. Uhura monitored the air waves for klingon transmissions while the rest of the landing party tried to actually get some rest.   
“Captain, if we are discovered near the klingon vessel-”   
“I know, Spock, but I can’t sit around and do nothing. I have to see what they’re unloading here.”  
The two of them snuck around the corner to see the crates the klingons had unloaded. Spock was at one of them with the tri-corder in an instant, trying to ascertain what could be in them, but they were spooked into hiding when they heard loud klingon nearby.   
The crevice they found themselves in was far too small for both of them, and it was on the windward side of the structure. They were stuck there until the Klingon left, and from the way Spock was leaning into Kirk already he was not going to be comfortable in the cold here.   
Kirk could handle being stuck awkwardly pressed into his first officer in any other circumstance. If Gourt’ka were warmer, Spock wouldn’t be unconsciously reaching into his robe and trying to warm himself. If they hadn’t just gotten back from shore leave on Candy Beach Kirk wouldn’t be so conscious of Spock’s hands in the first place.   
As it was, Kirk couldn’t handle it. Spock was too attractive, too close, and begging for too much from him. Not to mention, there was no way Spock was unaware of the storm in Kirk’s mind right now. He was just too professional to say anything. There was nothing more embarrassing than knowing that he couldn’t hide from Spock’s telepathy.   
“Captain, please calm down.” Spock whispered into his neck.   
Kirk stopped himself from making any sound, not trusting his vocal chords just then, but took a deep breath of the frigid air.   
“My regard for you could never change for this.”   
Whatever Spock was doing was calming him right down. Probably some vulcan mind meddling was mixed into the mess but Kirk was grateful for it. Kirk melted into Spock’s supporting embrace.   
It wasn’t until long after they’d been permitted to leave and discovered the Klingon’s intentions with the Gourt’ka and returned to the Enterprise that Kirk got a moment to question what ‘this’ Spock was referring to.


	3. To Wish For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock should not be allowed to drink at parties.

The crew was happy, so Kirk was happy. They were celebrating the long overdue peace treaty between two planets by escorting the ambassadors to a neutral planetoid to sign on. This wouldn’t usually call for shipwide jubilation, but there hadn’t been much to celebrate in a while and the ship was in good order to withstand a small lapse in formalities.   
The engines were working and needed no major maintenance for a week at earliest, the experiments were mostly in stagnant phases, with daily maintenance that had become routine, the course was easy and entirely within friendly space. A night or two of music and dancing was entirely warranted, if only for morale, to break up the monotony.   
Kirk did not get drunk. He was captain still, and he had to oversee everyone else’s enjoyment and safety for the evening. The ambassadors had taken a liking to Spock’s music and Uhura’s voice, and shared their strange carbonated drinks with the more adventurous crewmen. Kirk smiled at Chekov as he learned the Ti’Charthan dance with the ambassador’s maid.   
The Ti’Charthans were all hardcore party animals in their own ways, from a planet where one fought hard, drank hard, and played hard. They wore their emotions on their sleeves and not one of them had failed to ask what was ‘wrong’ with Spock.   
Kirk tapped his foot to the upbeat tune Spock and a Ti’Charthan musician had created and raised his glass when the dancers shouted a hearty “Pek-ee!” in time. A champagne flute full of apple juice was enough for Kirk to hold to keep the questions off his back.   
When certain crewmen ended up going back to the guest quarters with the Ti’Charthans, Kirk didn’t bat an eye. When the ambassador himself had asked Kirk to sing with him, Kirk sang. The party died slowly, as crewmates realized how little time there was before their shift or as others moved their partying elsewhere. It wasn’t uncommon to see a temporary spike in reported couples aboard after an event like this, and from what Kirk had observed none of the advances had been unwelcomed. Harassment was more than frowned upon on his ship, it wasn’t tolerated, and Kirk was confident that this party had been free of it.   
He talked Ambassador Jeddifilli into returning to the VIP guest suite and gave him to his security detail, a burly Ti’Charthan who began singing in a slurred voice that Jeddifilli echoed immediately and leaned into.  
Finally, the party had all moved away from the rec room and left Kirk in relative peace. A few crewmen and the surly Ti’Charthan aide were scattered, drinking and engaging in quiet conversations. Spock plucked out some song Kirk recognized somewhere in the back of his mind.   
“That’s a vulcan composition, right?” He asked, moving to sit closer.   
“Yes, Captain.” Spock didn’t look up.   
“I swear I’ve heard it before, what song is it?”   
“A lullabye of sorts, I suppose,” a smile crept into Spock’s eyes, “It’s one of the first songs young Vulcans are taught to play. It is believed to be one of Surak’s design, sung for his bonded.”   
“So it’s a love song?”  
“It is something like that,” Spock let his eyes meet Kirk’s, “It’s the logical first piece for an aspiring musician in the Vulcan tradition, with simple phrases that demonstrate our musical scale, harmonies, and rhythms. It can be adapted to be played as simply as an infant with a gong or as complex as desired.”   
“Playing it to stay in practice?” Kirk wasn’t sure if he was teasing Spock or genuinely curious.   
“Well observed, Captain.” Spock strummed his lute.   
When the song came to the softest close Kirk could’ve imagined for it, Spock packed up his lute and took the last drink from his glass, waving to the security officer who applauded him.   
“All done for now, Spock?” Kirk hummed.   
“It seems prescient that I leave this rec room to the silence so some rest may be had here.”   
Kirk nodded and finished his apple juice.   
“I wanted to listen to you play as long as you were willing to, but I think you’re right. I should probably head to bed myself.”  
Spock paused long enough Kirk questioned what he could possibly be thinking.   
“If you’d prefer to continue listening, I can play for you.”   
Kirk took his turn thinking about it.  
“That sounds nice, Spock, lead the way.”  
And Spock did. They went up to Spock’s quarters and Spock set up with his lute on his bed, so Kirk sat at his desk and leaned on the surface to listen intently. It didn’t sound like a lute from earth. Or a guitar. Or a violin. It sounded like all of those, and a sitar, and a harp. The music made Kirk’s eyelids heavy, but not as heavy as his arms or his head. He knew he had a dumb smile on, but Spock didn’t seem to mind the attention.   
It was dark and warm and quiet and Spock was there, so Kirk could feel sleep like an ocean below the cliff he sat upon. It called him and he knew he was in the safest place possible to accept it, but he wanted to hear Spock play.   
The soft red light over Spock’s bed illuminated soft fingers strumming, but not Spock’s face, so when Kirk heard him start to sing, it surprised him.   
Vulcan words went over Kirk’s head, or at least most of them did, he caught things like ‘me’, ‘here’, ‘sun’, ‘you’, and other simple words like those. It sounded like a lullabye alright, and it was successfully lulling him.   
“Captain, if you’re going to fall asleep, you may want to move to your own quarters.”   
“You’re absolutely right, Spock, however, I am enjoying your singing.”   
He carefully blinked the haze out of his mind, then yawned. When he opened his eyes, Spock was in front of him and gently helping him to his feet. Then, he was in Spock’s arms. As in, scooped up like a sleepy child to be carried to bed.   
“Hey, Spock, I can walk to my bed, I’m fine.”   
“Do you want me to put you down?” The slightest raise of an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t say that, but- Isn’t it more logical for me to move my own damn self to my room?”   
“What is most logical is for all parties to do what makes them the most comfortable.”   
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Spock, are you saying you’re going to feel better about me going to bed if you carry me there or what?”   
“Ensuring that you are comfortable before you sleep is not one of my duties, true, however it is reassuring if I can be certain that you’re equipped for a good night’s rest.” He was speaking clearly, but he was speaking slower than he would usually spoke.   
“Spock how drunk are you?”   
“I had 6 human standard drinks in the span of the last hour or so, with little to no food to accompany it, and I estimated my B.A.L. to be nearly .232 percent previously, so approximately .308 percent, Captain.”   
“You’re going to get alcohol poisoning, Spock! Why the hell did you drink so much?” Kirk squirmed in Spock’s arms to look at him.  
“It was logical.”   
“Spock I can and will get Bones to chaperone your drinking from now on for the rest of your tenure as my first mate.”   
“That is the next logical step.” Spock agreed.  
“Spock, put me down.”   
“Tell me, Captain, what would it take for you to lower your regard for me?” Spock mused aloud.  
“This certainly isn’t helping your case.”   
“What would I have to do for you to realize how much of my control is faked?” Quieter now, speaking right into his ear.  
“What are you talking about, Spock?”  
Spock silenced himself as he set Kirk into his bed.   
“Spock, talk to me.”   
“Jim.”   
Kirk took a deep breath as some sort of floodgate opened. He couldn’t tell if it was coming from Spock or if it was coming from the entire room around him, but he felt adoration pouring over him like rain. He saw himself from Spock’s eyes, and he was beautiful. His golden hair was falling loose from his usual style, his lips invited the observer in for a kiss. His eyes were filled with confusion and wonder and most of all some sort of need that wasn’t being filled.   
Sensation was pouring from Spock’s hand, he realized, into his mind through a bond they had cultivated over the years of Spock entering his mind when necessary or convenient.   
It occurred to him at some point that Spock wanted him to know this. Spock wanted him to see how pretty he thought he was, how close their minds were, how easy it was to reach out and touch him. This was Spock talking to him, in a weird vulcan way. Kirk just had no idea what he was saying.   
In the smallest part of himself, Kirk felt disappointed that he didn’t know what Spock was trying to tell him. He thought they had the kind of rapport that would carry over such a bond and help him sort it out.   
Spock pulled away from Kirk’s bed, closing his eyes and composing himself.   
“My apologies, Captain, I seem to have lost some of my composure there.”   
“It’s alright, Spock.”   
Spock left Kirk’s room quickly and silently.   
Kirk laid back on his bed and covered his eyes. What kind of perverted narcissist was he that seeing himself through Spock’s eyes like that had him harder than rock?


End file.
